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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776828">Headline</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiterumo/pseuds/aishiterumo'>aishiterumo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My personal Hematite [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stray Kids (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Gen, Heavy Angst, Injury, Language switch, Major Character Injury, Pain, References to Depression, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>Français</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:35:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26776828</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishiterumo/pseuds/aishiterumo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>La seule chose qui reste de lui, ce sont les gros titres qui ont suivi l'incident.</p><p>A/N: work contains both english and french</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>My personal Hematite [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1839322</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Headline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A/N: this work is part of a series 'My personal Hematite' which contains therapeutic works i wrote during some of my dark moments (panic attacks, depression episode, dissociation episode etc). i wrote these to help myself, they may not make any sense and are not related in any way. read with care, and be mindful of your comments. Thank you.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Un couteau dans la main, his head was throbbing with pain. Sat on his bed, he closed his eyes. His head kept on pounding loudly, he just couldn’t hold it anymore. He tried to focus on the music playing in the background, mais nothing was enough for him to forget his pain. Everything was just too much. He tried to forget for a moment, prenant une grande inspiration, he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his chest. It was enough of a pain for him to give in, his arm falling by itself as he stared at his thigh as la lame transperça sa peau. Sa peau s’imprégna du sang qui coulait sur les côtés de la lame, il était fasciné. Fear took him by surprise. Pain was horrendous as soon as he realized what he had done. It pleased him. He didn’t need to live anymore, pain was good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Conscient que ce n’était pas la chose à faire dans cette situation, il retira le couteau de sa cuisse. La douleur n’en fut que pire. Son sang continua de jaillir, à grand flot. He smiled at that sight, the knife meeting his stomach. He wasn’t even looking. He just dived the knife wherever his mind felt like it. It had chosen his stomach. C’était peut-être son ventre, tout compte fait. Il n’a jamais vraiment été sûr où la limite entre le ventre et l’estomac se trouve, de toute façon. The only thing he knew, now, was that it was painful. So painful. Good. That’s good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once again, blood. It stained his skin. It stained his hands. His knife was… well, there was no doubt it was the one that had met his insides twice already. It still wasn’t enough. D’un mouvement, il retira la lame from his stomach—ou son ventre, ou whatever. Il le prit de la main droite, cette fois-ci, et ferma les yeux as he dug the knife in his left arm. His ear popped loudly, deafening him for a moment that made him focus on something else than the pain from the knife.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still wasn’t enough. Il avait besoin de plus. Toujours plus. Presque instinctivement, il tourna la tête vers sa fenêtre. Large, avec un grand rebord. Tentant. Trop tentant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Il laissa le couteau ensanglanté tomber sur son matelas déjà taché, allant machinalement vers sa fenêtre. Il n’avait que quelques pas a faire. De la main droite, il ouvrit la fenêtre, l’air frais lui fouettant le visage presque tout de suite. Il n’était que dix-neuf heures, mais le ciel était déjà gris, probablement dû à tous ces nuages et à cette pluie. Il faisait sombre, toutefois pas assez pour dire qu’il faisait nuit. He took a deep breath, looking at the few houses in front of him. Slowly, il mit ses deux mains sur le rebord de la fenêtre, appuyant tout son poids—ou en tout cas ce que sa douleur dans le bras gauche lui autorisait à mettre—pour se surélever. Il mit un genou sur le rebord, se tournant ensuite pour pouvoir s’asseoir. He only lived on the third floor, it still felt high from here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With shaky breaths, il se laissa glisser légèrement jusqu’à être sur le rebord de fenêtre, complètement dehors. Il se tourna pour que son dos soit face à la fenêtre, ayant une vue imprenable sur le quartier. He wondered what his neighbors would think if they saw him. Would they think he was crazy? Would they see the blood from there? That’s when he remembered, all the blood he had on himself. He wanted to jump, yet he didn’t want to. He just wanted the pain to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided he wouldn’t jump. He turned around, once again, tendant sa main pour agripper le bord de la fenêtre. That’s when his feet slipped. And his hand didn’t catch the window. He fell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell from the third floor, body hitting the ground in a loud thud that made a few neighbors come to their own window. His head hit the ground first, bleeding enough for him to go unconscious. He bled himself to death, and the only thing left of him was a headline: “University student Seo Changbin commits suicide in student housing”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>find more work on my <a href="https://twitter.com/softflowermin">twitter</a> :]<br/>you can also ask question related to my works on my <a href="https://curiouscat.me/softflowermin">curiouscat</a>!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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